Vigilant Hero
by darcman44
Summary: Kick-ass said that because of his heroics, it inspired others to do the same. and if it did, profanity and mayhem strucked a teen named Mike Zillar.
1. The New Age has Begun

**Chapter 1**

**The New Age has begun**

Ok, when people wear a mask to the new super hero trend that has started out about a year ago it really did make a difference. People are going out in a costume like it was another casual wear and never feel embarrassed about it. It was a dream that came true to all nerds and geeks – to note, the word geek is an insult for me – who lived their lives behind the glossy covers of their graphic novels that being the super hero is flat-out impossible. So, I would ask you this question and you have got to be ready about it if you do.

"Do you want to be a superhero?"

By the way when I meant superhero, I meant wear a costume and actually fighting bad guys and not the usual shit that people wear tights for a fashion statement. If you do, you have to be ready because what this thing is really some serious shit.

When I first put on the costume, I was going like beat up bad guys, saving people from buildings or a cat from a tree, get with the ladies or something but there is one thing that I should have factored in or considered.

Right now I'm not fighting crime.

Right now I'm tied up to a fucking chair rigged to a contraption that will more or less burn me alive.

Right now there is a red and black caped asshole that I really want to beat the shit out.

Right now there are two super heroes who I really hope will save me, and that's not counting the police. I've read enough comic books and witnessed that there was always a mole in the NYPD.

Right now I have delved into a plot so twisted it involves the lives of the innocent, and me most importantly.

Right now I will face the consequences of being a super hero and if comic books taught us anything it's that when something really good happens, some crazier shit comes along to fuck with our minds.

I need a goddamn pizza after all of this.

I forgot to mention that when there are super heroes there was always be SUPER VILLAINS.

Ok I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go back about nearly a year and a few months ago from today.

My name is Michael Zillar, 14 years old. If people say I'm smart, the only problem is that I don't over exert myself in academics, except if it's math or something. Like all typical nerds, I enjoy the utmost escapes from reality by hiding behind the pages of books – comics, novels, mangas, and so on. My friends aren't really into these sorts of things, that's because we each have our own interests.

To have a circle of friends at random is quite interesting; it gets you to look at each other's point of view. I'm the guy who enjoys comic books and other added interest, the one who only voice out his perceptions when needed. Timothy Roth is your basic tekkie who can charm the will of any lady without even trying. My best friend, Joey Lassater, is more of music and choreography, and secretly down-right gay. Lastly, the 3rd best student in our whole fucking school and a hard-core gamer, Carmela Pascal. Always laid back and casual. Reasons for her being with us bunch of misfits rather the more popular clicks, I will never know.

So the story begins like any story would begin, my own head shoved forcefully in a toilet bowl.

"So my lil' smart ass monkey. Do my homework for the next math class and I might let you live. Agreed?"

Didriche Donnahan, I will never put him in the ranks as one of my arch nemesis, and not even rival standards. Just another thug, whose existence is to basically make my life a living hell. That being when he was young was never loved by his parents, making him secretly a cocksucker who suppresses his urges by picking on other people.

"Is the derivative of a constant number equal to zero?" I asked which only made him shove my head in the bowl once again.

"Don't you forget it freak" he says, leaving me to spit out last of the piss infused water.

As I exit bathroom feeling crappy like usually but I can't help smiling at the derivative joke. Genius. Plain fucking genius.

"Hey what's – whoa! – you look like shit, minus the smell of course, 'cause you smell like piss." Says Carmela with a downright grin

"Died-rich" as if the word explained his whole condition.

"Oh, well your still alive right, nothing to worry about. He's just a douche." douche-! That would be like saying Scarlett Johanson was just cute, I should now that being an understatement from my pictures of her in my comp- you know what never mind "And why aren't we telling the teachers about this again?"

"Because we'll just be sprinkling water to the ocean that is Died-rich. So what if we tell on him, the teachers never really give a damn, he'll just come back for more and besides… his assaults are… bearable."

"Bearable? Bearable to shutting you up perhaps Mi-key. Ever taught of standing up for yourself?"

"Nah- it'll just waste my time"

Another 5 minutes of talking about the new god of war 3 game with Carmela made my mood a little lighter than before, that was until Joey showed up…

"What's up my bitches! Carmela, looking fine and HOT as ever. And how's my little Mi –"sniff" - shit dude you look like shit, minus the smell of course cause-"

"-I know I know, I smell like piss, so I've heard. Thank you for pointing that out Joey."

"Tell 'yah what." Carmela proposed, "If Major Dickwad comes after you again, look for me. I've always wanted to shove my fist so down someone's throat they'll poop where he'd eat and they'd eat where they'd poop."

"I'll keep that in mind," making a mental note to never cross this crazy bitch ever and to buy a laxative on the way home, "but for now I'll handle my problems on my own." Mike sighed.

"Like taking on Died-rich?" Joey said while obviously trying not to laugh… and failing to do so, "like that will ever happen."

It's really hard not smirk at that me taking on him is totally possible.

See when I was little my parents use to place me in all kinds of activities over the summer. They enrolled me at swimming classes, artwork shops, and all kinds. There was one time when they made me learn taekwondo. It didn't really last long, but the punching bag in my room that my dad installed for me still hanging. So without any help and the only given references was from Tekken games that I borrowed from Carmela (yeah we go way back like kindergarten back, back when she to used kick my a- you know what never mind) and my dad's collection of kung-fu videos since i-don't-know-what-dinosaur-era, I started my own intensive, hell training of my own. The idea was to balance my whole body to avoid suspicion that I've been working out, not that I knew that when I was 6 years old. When I get home I make i-don't-know-how-many-punches, something-something-something-that-many kicks that I have to drown myself in my own sweat. I trained my reflexes by using my mom's thingamajig tennis ball launcher, sometimes either trying to punch away or dodging them. All after my homework and stuff of course, my mom would freak if I even missed one.

Again, I don't really over exert my capabilities only when it's really, really important. But, if you were to ask me right now, if you so-ever fuck with my family and friends, you don't know deep shit until you've tasted my homemade kind.

But alas, I should probably just get it over with, Right? I mean he's not the only asshole out there. There are probably more in the whole city, the whole country, the whole goddamn world for Christ sake. Out there are the real capital one a-holes who would take someone's life to save their own, who would rip families lives apart just to earn a decent buck. Compared to others, Died-rich is a little care bear willing to hug anyone who passes by.

I sighed as me, Carmela, and Joey walked out of the school entrance of Brown. We passed by the nearest mall to get some ice cream… and for Joey's suggestion some Lysol to cover my smell.

While the two were looking at perfume, I immediately check… well some other things like movie screenings, the nearest toy store, and the clock to see how much time left so that I can pass by the comic book store or the nearest bookstore.

We ate ice cream and discuss our nonexistent and existing plans of the future. While eating, We spotted the one of the usual customers of the Atomic city comic book store, Thomas… you know what for the sake of the argument just Thomas for now. Anyway, Thomas was looking grim as he held up an ice pack to his bruised jaw line. Died-rich strikes again.

"I'm telling you I can take that dick-wad on!" exclaimed Carmela.

" Your Taebo-slash-karate ways are amateurish" I reasoned, "you were only able to pass our P.E. classes because of your endurance, yet you and sports will perhaps never go together, if you count out your Madden NFL 2010 and Fifa 2010, Quidditch and Chess-"

"Oho, like you know Mr. expert-?"

"Speaking of sports," said Joey, "has Coach Jones cornered you to talk about sex ed-"

Carmela quickly replied "No we haven't talked to the 290 lbs., ever grouchy – "

"-shorts-always-shrunk-in-the-wash-" I added.

"-and questionably crazy P.E. Teacher."

"Good because Timothy is trying to keep it a secret" Joey said with an evil smirk.

We laughed our asses off after that, and I didn't even check the time to get to Atomic City. We went our separate ways as both of them took the bus leaving me to walk home.

My mom and dad were taking an anniversary honeymoon to the country leaving me with my grandparents. I don't mind them going off, it was bound to happen, all the pressures at work, and it's either this or dad has to stay in the couch for – How long you ask? I'll ask you the time right now and say he has nine hundred, ninety nine years to go. At least my grandparents aren't working stiffs and only serious when needed.

I did my usual routine, kicking the shit out of a punching bag (better tell dad that we need to replace the chains attached to it before it breaks), and did my homework, and random vocational activities.

We ate our usual meal while my grandparents watched television; I, on the other hand, sticked to reading the new Spider-Man issue while I ate.

As I was about to stand up from the table a new report suddenly flashed on the screen of our TV. The title was something unusual these days so I sat y ass back down never knowing that this news will change my life FOREVER.

REAL LIFE SUPER HERO

As soon as I saw this title, I immediately went to skeptical mode. Another fluff piece on a guy who returned $2000.00 worth of cash to the authorities or a working stiff finally found a lost girl's mommy or so I thought. Because in reality the super is just the morality of good conscience and heroes are just people trying to do the right thing, and let life keep going.

Nothing of that sort showed up on the screen.

For me, the word "super" is dead. From getting bitten by a radioactive spider, to a high grade military experiment gone completely AWOL, or the last refugee alien from a distant planet just forget it. None of that random stuff ever happens… But I couldn't be more wrong.

The news showed a guy dressed up in a green wetsuit with yellow stripes wielding two batons beating the shit out of the Puerto Ricans to defend their latest victim. "A real life superhero?" I mentally screamed, "Why hadn't I thought of this before!"

The video zoomed in as the guy fell down as he got hit by a trash bin but the guy just kept coming back up. He was no Juggernaut, but fuck dude I would be dead by now from all those kicks and punches. He eventually makes them back off until one decides to pull a knife. It's hard to hear what the thug says because of the glass and the next thing you know the super hero dude starts shouting at them.

"AND THREE ASSHOLES" stopping to catch his breath, "–LAYING INTO ONE GUY WHILE EVERYBODY ELSE WATCHES!"

The three turn their backs to look at the people watching them.

"AND YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?" the guy screams, glaring at them.

"YEAH I'D RATHER DIE!" catching his breath for the last time, "-SO BRING IT ON!"

It was like seeing Spider-Man for the first time telling Green Goblin to back off or Superman glaring down robbers to never harm his metropolis. The camera moved to going outside to close up on our fuck-crazy-good-Samaritan. The quality of the video was good enough to hear the whisper of the man thanking the superhero while the guy who took the shot asks the all important question "Who are you?"

After a long pause he replies "I'm Kick-Ass!"

…

"Well that was something. Eh, kiddo?" Grandpa says breaking my train of thought.

"That man's going to get himself killed" said Grandma to herself.

"Kids nowadays" said Grandpa while shaking his head "they should be doing something conservative nowadays like studying or that Guitar God 5 game your friend keeps talks about. That's the point of giving you a laptop right?"

Yeah, other than downloading movies and searching porn.

I went up to my room gazing at the wall for a minute or so. I never thought the idea of being a superhero was possible but there it was, as bright as day. If someone had the balls to really pull this kind of stunt...

So, why couldn't I?

After that, it was all a blur. I pulled out a sketch pad to design a costume. I wrote down a list of gadgets I should have when I walk out into the streets, I thought of color schemes, catch phrases, and all more importantly, a name. I looked at the plans if I ever become a costumed vigilante. The mask was a sphere with a horizontal slot for the eyes. The clothes consisted of a red nylon jacket with a black shirt underneath, and black stretchable jeans. The jacket had a breast plate underneath and a belt that covered the stomach. But I needed gloves and armguards, shin guards and shoulder pads.

"It's almost perfect, with my advance fighting skills and all" I chuckled.

"So what's holding me back?" I asked myself. "It's awesome to dream about this sort of things and to actually do it. It's just that… when it gets down to it… death… your ass is on the line…"

Despite knowing how to punch and kick above advance standards that even a black belter would be proud of isn't really enough to say I'm ready.

Any other reason to do this was just on plain boredom or vanity. People like me should be thinking about future goals on what do I do once we finished college, then there's work and family and death. There will be a time when I will be stuck at work in my miserable life doing nothing relatively different to make life interesting. And I want my life to be exciting.

I surf Youtube to replay the kick-ass footage. Seeing it again gave me all more reason to not to do something like this.

"I should have a trial" I thought, "I want something that will make me dare to do any of this. Something daring…"

Ok, it's really stupid but I promised to myself that with it there was no going back:

"If I win this, I will do the vigilante shit, with the costume/uniform and everything. And if not, well I get my ass kicked, and think about damn delusions behind me."

So it was settled, tomorrow I was going to fight Died-rich.

_**

* * *

Written by: darcman44**_

_**Edited by: WikflameX**_

_

* * *

Editors Note:_

_Hello fanfic people waves PEOPLE WHO GIVE COMMENTS WILL BE MUCH APPRECIATED AND WILL BE GIVEN COOKIES, while FLAMES WILL BE USED TO SET FIRE TO THEIR OWN HAIR _

_it took me about a week to edit this 'cauz I was bored and my brother "words" needed improving BLAH BLAH stares profoundly at darcman44 anyways don't bother searching my stories they're all so completely random that you seriously wouldn't believe that I edited this. I am the younger brother of darcman44 yes YOUNGER and I edit his fics… -_-*yawn* _

_P.S. I am currently 15_

_

* * *

Authors Note:_

_This is my first and hopefully not the last fic. As anyone who tries to write something like this is out of boredom and sheer inspiration (sane is to insanity while inspiration is to addiction). I made him editor so that I can annihilate his remaining childhood, because I can. The title bears the original Vigilante or hero, cross out the letter "e" and the word "or" in the middle, you will get the ff. So for now read_ _and enjoy.  
_


	2. To Fight or To Die sooner or later

**Chapter 2**

**To Fight or Die… sooner or later**

Everywhere you went there was only one name you heard on the street. KICK-ASS. The news spread like wild fire of the now first famed costumed vigilante.

It was talks of "Did you see KICK-ASS on the news last night!", "Have you seen KICK-ASS!" and my personal favorite "Dude, I was just watching when –" and so on and so forth.

The guy became the newest pop culture icon. He was "that Guy" who finally did what nobody else dared to do.

Of course there was also that wishful thinking that we would wake up some day suddenly flying across the city with flashy costumes taking out bad guys, save the freakin' day, one civilian at a time and that day could be now. It just goes to show that Kick-Ass represents that what we hoped and dreamed for, albeit fucking crazy, is impossible and he got himself as what any superhero would, a grand clamor in his name that shall never be forgotten. Our parents had Michael Jackson, we have Kick-Ass.

For now, I have other things to think about aside from Kick-Ass. Today I'm going to stand up to Didriche Donnahan the man behind most of my beatings, knock-outs, and unlimited visits to the nurses' clinic in my life.

One these days people will start asking themselves "what would Kick-Ass do?", then they would get the shit kicked out of them AND still land on top. But hey, were all insane in the inside one way or another, right?

First of all, Diedrich isn't just you average muscle bound idiot. He is a muscle bound, war hungry, FUCKTARD.

Oh yeah he's not gay.

We were joking about him being a fag of course, Its just that one time he beat up this kid and ended up getting sent to the guidance counselor cause the kid said when he was pushed against the wall he FELT something.

The best way to eradicate scandals like these is either to forget it ever happened or cover it up. Diedrich picked the latter. I have to say the first few weeks was hell because of the constant announcements of him being the biggest alpha-bitch in the whole school – in our guilt free mind, biggest jerk-off. In the end, he convinced us he has eyes and his dick for a girl, Beatrice "Trix" Cortez.

Trix isn't someone you'd call the hottest piece you can find at school but in a word… pretty.

A nice round face, a swimmer's figure, and a peaceful demeanor, you might even call her the perfect mother figure since she has that aura to make you want to lie down in her lap. Because of her help the needy attitude, it cost her tied-and-chain – to the town's asshooligan.

Getting Closer to Trix equals pissing off Diedrich

Piss off Diedrich equals Fight Diedrich

Easy as that… I hope.

The best way to strike conversation is to observe the little things. Like the book she was reading.

"No way in hell man," said Carmela as she sat beside me during lunch break, "Not even in heaven will you get a shot. FORGET ABOUT IT."

"Who?"

"Trixie, you've been eyeing her for twenty minutes, including breaks."

"It's not what you think" I said, but she didn't seem to be listen anymore, "I know what it means Michael!" she fake sniffed "You're leaving me for another woman! To think we would end like this. What happen to the tears we've shed-"

"-The first time we met you punched me in the eye and told teacher I killed your pet antelope –"

"The laughs we shared –"

"You shared your laughs to the rest of the 6th grade when you 'accidentally' threw your orange juice, swiss turkey sandwich, coleslaw, a mobile of Jupiter and it's moons, and your ginger cat Fidles at me" don't ask how in the fuck that happened.

"It's a hit or miss, if she says yes then go for it" said Timothy sitting at my other side out of nowhere.

"Oh yeah, all of the following options only lead you getting handed by Died-rich." She finished.

"Excellent" I mumbled to myself.

"No, not excellent dumb-ass. I just said you're gonna get killed if you do shit like this. Plus everyone knows that's Died-Rich's girl." Carmela reasoned.

"If a guy has the balls to do it then he should do it, like Kick-Ass." I can't believe I just referenced him. I should do that more often or maybe buy a KICK-ASS t-shirt.

"Kick-Ass… Really? You're going with Kick-Ass." said Carmela, raising an eyebrow at me, "First of all, although what he did was completely awesome and heroic, he still got his ass beat. He should be lucky that they didn't have a gun with them…"

"Well, that's the point isn't it? He did what others didn't dare do, he did whatever the hell he wanted to and nothing ever stopped him. Besides, I'm just gonna talk to her. It'll be enough to get Didriche pissed-off to kick my ass, and I think I know how."

"Wait-Mike!" Carmela said, stunned," What do you mean by-"

Getting up from my chair to get everyone at the table giving me their best what-the-fucking-hell –are-you-about-to-do-look at me wasn't really that hard. On the way to the bench where Trix was sitting I mentally hoped that my plan would work cause if it doesn't… I'd be in a lot of deep shit.

"Why would anyone consider a girl specifically called 'Crash and the boys'?" I said as I sat beside Trix as casually as I could

She looked up,

"You read Scott pilgrim?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm waiting for the last volume coming out in July. It's really nice, the action scenes only start in the end of what you're holding, but the rest is still plain laugh fest."

She replied "Well for your information…" she paused awkwardly, of course I never really advertise my name cause I'm the type of guy who says "Hi… guy" when someone I really don't know walks by.

But fucking score! Now, to cue my intro…

"Michael" I smiled, offering her a handshake, "Michael Zillar."

"Beatrix Cortez, but all of my friends call me Trix–"

"LIKE THE CEREAL-!" I said saying the first thing that popped into my mind. I only had milk and a strip of burnt bacon courtesy of Grandpa Ralph this morning, so cereal sounds fucking great right about now.

"Yes, Mike, like the cereal." She said giggling. I think Timmy's thing is starting to rub off on me.

Ok, that sounded completely dirty perhaps even contagious coming from him.

Great, Now I feel Naughty.

"You're not the only whose read all 5 Volumes" she said smugly, "and yeah Wallace has a point in taking consideration that one of the boys is a girl, but would you rather hear 'Crash and one of the boys'?"

"hmmm… Crash and the rest of the boys?"

"or perhaps Crash to the rest?"

"Hey! Stay away from MY girl" shouted the disgruntled Diedrich. "Well that was Fast I thought, "I finally got myself into a conversation with her and already Died-rich in a foul mood. It's in my nature that' everything that is me he considers it to exploit and dissect in every single way."

"We were just talking Didi." Explained Trix calmly. Ha! Didi, what a faggoty name.

We practically did nothing but stare at each other, while Trix did the talking. We couldn't start throwing punches in front of her, but believe me it would do good for the girl to finally dump his sorry ass. There was only one thing that showed in the eyes of Diedrich: pure HATE. I, on the other hand, was just calm and collected, and a bit anxious if you ask me. I pulled out a little smile as I was behind Trix which just made him even more furious.

"Well, I better get to class." Said Trix while she was getting up, "beats being out here in the sun."

"You're in room 305 right, I can walk you there if you want" I offered.

"Oh, thank you, but I think Didi will be getting me to class, so I'll see you around?"

"Unless I see you first" she glanced back at me with a smile. This is really pissing Died-rich off, "Ok"

She was pulling him to get her to class until he said. "Go ahead", sweet naïve Trix, doesn't know what kind of shit about going to go down.

He snapped back at me pointing a finger to my face. His face contorted with rage. I just looked at him confused as a penguin that got lost in the dessert.

"What?" I asked, the next one is with a bit of innocence, "Did I do something?"

Knowing what he would say sealed the deal. "Back lot"

He would probably be suspicious if he wonders why the hell I'm not protesting against this. "We were just talking honest I got interested in the book she was reading and-"

"You. Me. Back Lot." He poked at me with emphasis on his words. He looked away as he entered school. But who am I kidding? I'm having way too much fun not to miss this opportunity.

"Whatever you say," I smirked, "Didi."

He tried to make a hit at me in the last second. Thankfully the bell rang as his fist is now a centimeter away from my face. He mouthed the words over to me again so as not to forget. I sighed and breathe in the morning air, this is going to be a long day before this is over.

Carmela looked at me with suspicion. Trying to figure out what I was doing. She passed along the message to Tim and Joey afterwards, probably going to tell them to look out for me.

School was the same. I didn't slouch, sleep, and paid any attention to my teachers that day. I wasn't fidgeting but anxious to be in a fight. This will be my first of many. Immediately after word got out about the fight and they already started a betting pool on who will get out alive. No surprises that nobody wanted to bet on me. But it doesn't hurt to give away 20 bucks that I'll probably get back.

"So what are we going to do later?" Joey asked.

"Umm, I have a fight with Died-rich later so I can't do anything about it."

"Seriously man, let's watch a movie or something" Timothy said worried if I have gone crazy.

Carmela suddenly grabbed my face going, "HE-WILL-KICK-YOUR-ASS! Get that through your head." If I were to let her hold my head any tighter, it would pop out.

"No he won't. I have a plan." Taking her hands off my face, "and the plan is?" asked Joey.

I smiled, "A punch in the face. As simple as that, Joey."

I went on a march while my friends drag themselves behind me.

Was it me or nearly half the school was here? There's last minute betting along the corner and Died-rich was getting in the action as well. All of them are either praising him or hiding from him out of sheer terror. Even some of the nerds here want to see my ass kicked. Almost everyone is already pulling out their cellphones and camcords just as soon as they saw me.

"Look there's still time" Joey said, as I have gave him my jacket and my bag pack, "let's go see a movie, maybe get some coffee with cream and maybe it'll be my treat all you have to do is-"

"Well lookie here! The asshole came after all!" as the real asshole finally looked around.

I rolled my eyes, and made Joey to stand aside, "We were just making a nice honest conversation fuck-tard," as said as I walked towards him, "something where you can't even form the first two words to it."

"You hear this asshole?"

He looks back at his cronies in the back, bad fucking move asshole. I already know that stance. He stops pretending to be in a good mood and goes for the right hook. I stepped to my right block the oncoming arm with my left hand, and landing him a right hook of my own.

I haven't got to know how much damage I can really do with my fist since I have been practicing on a punching bag, but the effect was unbelievable.

The punch recoiled him sideways. I could'nt believe that could can give a punch as hard as what I did just now. Funny, that was just one of my normal punches.

He lunges at me again, bringing a left punch. A second later it proved to be a feint which later he brings his right fist to my face, I noticed and jumped backwards to counter him with a spinning kick. My foot just missed his head by millimeters and he's beginning to feel a twinge of fear. He puts on an angry face again, and we continue to dance.

It went on for another two minutes. Eventually he has to consider doing kicks as well. I was just busy bringing different combinations to bring him down. I think I landed a dozen of hits already. Think of a monkey who got a hold of a cup of sugar being handled by a zoo keeper. I'm the fucking primate throwing all kinds of shit to the readily dimwitted man handler. Left swing, right, spin, evade, axe kick, elbow smash, and I even threw in a headbutt for kicks, which I gotta tell you it really hurts.

I was getting all cocky, which ended Died-rich finally giving me a punch in the face. I saw stars after that, and acted fast enough to step backwards to avoid another punch from him. I heard a crunching sound on my nose while blood dripped down to my chin. Compared to me, Died-rich was covered in bruises, one sporting a black eye. The punch he gave me was a good idea, now I really want to kick his fucking ass.

I ran toward him, making him think that I was going to jump him. The floor was damp enough to make my legs go for a mid jump, only to slip and make an upward kick towards his mid section. I swung my legs again in a clockwise rotation that got me momentum to put back myself up. I bobbed my fighting stance and turn to give a finishing flying kick to his chest.

He was finally knocked unconscious , giving an instant silence to the crowd around us. Feeling maniacal with my kung-fu gimmicks and coursing adrenaline from beating this motherfucker, I should respond to my opponent to be humble, like bowing and shit. So I must not-

"Woooooooah"

Oops.

I stood around looking at the stunned faces of the people around me. My friends were in awestruck as I headed back to them grabbing my bag and jacket from Joey. I pulled out a Kleenex, from my bag pack, to wipe of the blood that has now stopped dripping. Thank you mom for always-have-everything packed.

"Come on!" I exclaimed,"Mr. Frost has a special today! Free unlimited Oreos for every scoop of vanilla, peanut butter and, and strawberry banana. I've been saving all week for this."

It was weird that some of them were still staring at me fifteen minutes after the fight. Even as I handed the ice cream that Carmela order, she wasn't even blinking but it was good that she is slowly smiling at me.

It was quiet as we sat down to eat so I finally broke the silence.

"What?"

"In the six grade, when I was –" Really, Timothy is pulling that shit out at me?

"It's me Timmy. Save that UFO-conspiracy-shit for a later date." I said then remembered "or the twin/advance clone who took over me to conquer the world jerk". But that didn't stop him. "How do I know it's you with all that Jet Lee, honky-dori, brawl shit back then."

"Because, I know for a fact that you got stuck in the ladies restroom for the whole afternoon, and when we met up three hours later you said that the excavation was a geyser of an epiphany, and you took a peek at Sasha Keen's developed boobs. Even took her bra for good measure."

It was close to legendary what he pulled that.

"If you were you, you would have answered the question I was about to ask and know. You could be stalling me to make a worldwide search about who I am. And I know for a fact that it can be searched because Sasha's Cup size and information about yours truly is available in Wikipe-"

"Really that's enough Tim." At least Carmela has the most sensible person around him.

"But shit man. That was awesome!" Joey looked at me appraisingly while pointing me with a four scooped ice cream. He looked kinda funny.

"Thank you Joey."

Hopefully the events of today won't leak to the parents. Knowing, Died-rich he's too much of an asshole to be crying back to mommy and daddy. It'll be as good as surrendering. Starting tomorrow he won't even bother us one bit for a month, then maybe get back to regular routine modified enough not to cross me.

I almost forgot why I haven't done this befo–

Oh, shit. I just remembered now I have to become a superhero maybe an ice cream on the way home for an extended celebration.

_

* * *

Written by: darcman44_

_Edited by: WikflameX_


End file.
